


Truisms

by orphan_account



Series: the art student au [1]
Category: Ghostbusters (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Art School, F/F, Neighbors, Slow Burn, a series in which holtz inspires erin's sexual awakening, art history patty, painter abby, pianist erin, sculptor holtz
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2016-12-31
Packaged: 2018-09-12 01:27:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9049657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Jillian Holtzmann moves in across the hall. Erin doesn't understand the way her new neighbor makes her feel.(Or, the beginning of an extended Holtzbert college AU.)





	1. savor kindness

Erin Gilbert's living situation was as ideal as a college student's living situation could be in Manhattan. Her dorm building was rat-free (for the most part), the elevator was generally reliable, she had a small room to herself in a suite, her best friend was her roommate, and the guy across the hall was a quiet cinema studies major.

Well, the guy across the hall was a quiet cinema studies major until he had a nervous breakdown, developed a rash, and dropped out mid-semester.

Two weeks later, loud noises began emerging from behind the peeling laminate door, and Erin shouldered her keyboard and shook her head. The room couldn't stay empty for the rest of the year, but she wished her new neighbor was a silent textile design student or art history major. The walk to the practice rooms was a little less peaceful than usual as she considered the implications of the new addition. On one hand, she didn't know the hours the neighbor would keep or how long the noises would last; they might be quiet once they finished moving in. On the other, _not knowing_ was more of a disadvantage, because the new neighbor could be rude, or inconsiderate, or sloppy enough to attract the bugs and rats that had steered clear of their corner of the building.

Another week passed before she met the new neighbor. Erin returned from class late one Tuesday, and there she was, dressed in singed and stained trousers and dragging long pieces of dented metal into her room. Half of her face was obscured by thick yellow goggles and a puff of wild blonde hair. Erin gave her a tight, awkward smile and focused harder than she ever had before on unlocking her door.

"Holtzmann."

Erin turned. "What?"

The blonde grinned—somewhat maniacally, Erin noted—and stalked forward, tugging at the vest she wore. "Jillian Holtzmann, Virgo, sculptor, two creams and six sugars."

 _Of course she's a sculptor_ , Erin thought. The clanging and thudding across the hall would continue. "Is that... your _coffee order?"_

"You never know when that knowledge might be handy." An eye winked at her from behind the goggles, and Erin's jaw dropped at the nerve her own anxieties would never allow her to possess. "Want to let me know yours?"

Erin closed her mouth and swallowed. "Um... I'm Erin Gilbert... I'm a pianist, and I..."

Jillian nodded and leaned forward on the balls of her feet, appearing enthralled by Erin's mundane introduction.

"...I drink two parts coffee to one part half and half. No sugar?"

"Excellent. I've been wanting to meet you." Jillian's grin widened into a blinding, satisfied smile. Erin mentally applauded her neighbor's dentist with an irregular thud of her heart. The blonde puff of hair twitched back toward the metal sheets. "Gotta get back to my project before the wiring sets something on fire, but I'll see you around."

"Uh huh. Yep. See you... around." Erin was through the door, dropping her books on the small table set aside for keys and bags with an overwhelmed sigh. She didn't know why the new girl across the hall was so direct, but her strange kindness was enough to make Erin's stomach flop around. She savored the feeling, hoping the kindness would last. New friends were hard for Erin to come by, and she found herself crossing her fingers, despite the noise and the oddities.

Jillian's exit only fully registered once the happy, fluttery sensation began to subside. _"...Fire?!_ Ohmigod, Abby!"

Her roommate's head poked out of her bedroom. "You met Holtzmann? What do you think?"

Erin blinked at the question and tried to form a reasonable answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is the first time I've attempted a fanfic in several years, but I've been floating around tumblr with drabbles and a few RP blogs in the meantime. I have high hopes for this story and whatever branches off of it. Thank you for taking the time to read this! Feedback is, of course, always very appreciated.


	2. unique things

The next day, Erin returned to her suite exhausted. Her hands ached from playing piano all morning, and her head throbbed from her advanced music theory course. She lined up her spotless Keds underneath the small table in the entryway and hung her bag on its hook, shuffling over to the tiny kitchenette.

Abby stood at the mini fridge, holding the door open and  _hmm_ -ing every few seconds at a takeout container. "Erin, if it's been in here for a week and a half...?"

"Nope," Erin interrupted her roommate and grabbed the container, dropping it in the trash in one smooth motion. "Uh uh. Not again."

Abby's look of contemplation morphed into one of outrage, but the history she and Erin knew she had with old takeout kept her from protesting. "I  _guess_  that's fair... So, Thai or Chinese?"

"Why can't we ever eat in the dining hall?" Erin shot her a look and pulled an ice pack out of the tiny freezer. "We already paid for that food with tuition."

 _"Highway robbery,"_  Abby muttered.

Erin placed the ice pack on the knuckles of her right hand. "Come on. Grab your tupperware, and we'll sneak food out."

~x~

Half an hour later, they slipped out of the elevator with small plastic containers concealed under their jackets. Erin snorted a laugh as Abby hummed the  _Mission Impossible_  theme and pretended to sneak back to their suite, crouching and peeking around every corner. 

"Watch my back," Abby whispered when they reached the door, slipping her key from her pocket. Napkin-wrapped cookies fell to the ground as she kneeled, and she looked to the left and right before she snuck them back into her coat. "I'm going to bust this lock and then we make our move, got it?"

Erin rolled her eyes, but she nodded and returned to the corner, playing the lookout. The game was old—they used to play it to make avoiding high school bullies more interesting—but it seemed that it would stick around, even when there were no real threats.

_"Sasquatch hunting?"_

The low, serious murmur made Erin lurch forward, and the tupperware under her jacket tumbled to the floor. Her heart felt like it was attempting to leap out of her chest, and she rubbed at her sternum, trying to stave off the oncoming anxiety. 

"Oh... oops." Holtzmann sounded more curious than remorseful, and Erin looked at her quizzically. Her appearance was as strange as the day before: high waisted capris and a delicate, hole-ridden scarf knotted like a tie over a T-shirt, all splattered in paint. She swayed back and forth on the balls of her feet, leaning back at a dangerous angle every time. "But Sasquatch hunters need to be aware of their surroundings, 360 degrees. Can't catch the supernatural if you don't pay attention."

Stooping to gather her dinner, Erin tried to shrug, but she felt more twitchy than nonchalant. "Is the Sasquatch supernatural, though?"

Holtzmann gazed at her for a long moment before nodding. "Smart woman, Gilbert."

Erin fought to keep the pleasure off of her face. She was rarely acknowledged so openly by anyone but professors and Abby. Any speculation about Holtzmann's intentions made her wary, but a virtual stranger recognizing something positive about her was thrilling in a way she couldn't define.

"Erin! Dinner?!" A booming voice cut through the conversation, and Erin looked back to find her roommate waving at the door. Abby paused her frantic motion at the sight of the newcomer. "Oh, hey, Holtzmann. You want dinner? It's dining hall slop."

Holtzmann's thoughtful look turned into a wide smile. "I love slop, but I gotta source some found materials for my midterm project tonight. Hittin' up the dumpsters in Tribeca. The richer people have the best trash."

"Dumpsters?" Erin did little to conceal her surprise or the wrinkle of her nose. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Abby accept the excuse with the sage nod of a fellow fine arts major.

"The untapped resource of New York City." Holtzmann's face was serious, but her eyes widened comically at Erin. "Cheaper and cooler than buying new, too."

"Oh... Um, I guess that makes sense?" It didn't make sense to her, but Erin didn't want to admit that to Abby and Holtzmann. She would rather buy something new and clean.

"You know it." Holtzmann waggled her eyebrows and grinned at Erin, who felt her pores beginning to prickle as her forehead grew damp with nervous sweat at her lie. "Maybe you can check out the haul when I get back." As abruptly as she arrived, she turned her back on Erin and began to saunter down the hallway, shouting over her shoulder. "BYE, ABBY!"

 _Good grief,_ Erin thought, _she has a set of lungs._ The yelling was easily the least strange thing about the entire conversation, but it left an impression, and Erin rubbed at one of her ears as she returned to her suite.

"God, she really is a strange duck, isn't she?" Abby stared at the corner Holtzmann disappeared around. Despite her evident judgement, Erin could hear the fondness in her friend's voice.

"At least she's, ah... a friendly duck?" Erin's fingers twitched by her sides, itching for a distraction to occupy themselves with.

Abby turned her scrutiny on Erin, who shrunk slightly under her careful gaze and clenched her hands into fists, though she wasn't sure what Abby seemed to be searching for. "Alright, Keyboard Commander, let's go. We've got dinner and classes to conquer."

~x~

Erin scooted the bench closer to the upright piano in one of the better practice rooms and stretched her fingers, warming up with a few scales. Several short, original pieces were due for a midterm in her composition class, and she was much further behind her schedule than she wanted to be.

She began to play, working her way through a few classical pieces and songs from her favorite movie soundtracks as she waited for inspiration to strike.

 _Smart woman, Gilbert_.

A compliment from a strange conversation about the Sasquatch was hardly high praise, but just thinking about it warmed Erin from the inside out. Although Holtzmann did seem as strange as Abby thought, she was beginning to like their neighbor. The noises from across the hall were irritating—a few could be categorized as minor explosions—but Holtzmann smiled at Erin when they passed in the hall, something she couldn't say for many other people. Apparently she agreed to sneak a blowtorch out of a campus workshop for one of Abby's midterm projects as well _ **.**_

She shook her head as one piece ended and transitioned into the theme from  _The_   _X Files_. Her professors could never know she knew it, because too many were hyper-judgmental about the music their students listened to and played, but it was something she learned in her early days of friendship with Abby. They thought of each other as strange ducks then, too, but between their artistic interests, nine seasons of Scully and Mulder, and their shared ghost infatuation, they became best friends quickly. 

Maybe they wouldn't need to watch 200 episodes of a show to initiate Holtzmann. Erin would, however, donate soap to the cause if her dumpster diving was a regular occurrence.

Eventually, Erin let her hands take over and she began to play in a different key, slowing the tempo enough to dissect each note. Unlike many of her peers, she enjoyed the math of music. The way music theorists linked the golden ratio to classical masterpieces or wrapped sheet music up in the Fibonacci spiral fed into Erin's natural desire to compartmentalize and organize. Her own writing process was far from clinical, but the numbers comforted her when she couldn't listen to her work objectively.

She knew Abby liked to incorporate mathematical principles into her paintings as well and wondered for a moment if Holtzmann liked to sculpt with numbers, too.

By the end of the night, she had a song that was vaguely reminiscent of _The X Files'_  haunting opening credits, but was unique enough to work as a solid starting point. The tune reminded her of wild tufts of blonde hair and that ridiculous scarf, and Erin decided she was too tired to be cautious about getting attached so soon for the evening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... I definitely won't get a chapter out every single day, but I am dying to get this story set up and heading in the right direction. That first chapter was such a teaser, wasn't it?


	3. a single event

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short rating change, so please take note if that's something that bothers you!

With a  small  smile aimed at her professor, Erin left her last class of the day.  She made her way to the elevator for the trip to the ground floor of the music building, digging her phone out of her back pocket.  

_[Abby]: late lunch @ chopt - 2:30?_

Her mouth dropped into a little O, and she checked the time. Twenty minutes past two; her class must have run later than normal. Erin would have to hustle if she wanted to make it on time, but she could feel a salad calling her name. 

_[Erin]: Sure thing. I  just  got out of class. Get me a water and a Santa Fe salad, and I’ll Venmo you._

_[Abby]: kk_

Abby’s quick response only emphasized what Erin already knew.  If her roommate had forgone breakfast as usual and waited past her normal eleven o’clock lunchtime, she had to be starving.  With a quiet sigh, Erin steeled herself in anticipation of breaking a sweat and pushed her way out of the elevator and through the sleek glass doors of the building.

Her pace quickened  consistently  as she power-walked two blocks and crossed the street into Union Square Park, adjusting the strap of her heavy laptop bag and dodging a dog walker  . She checked the time on her phone.

_2:27._

Within minutes, she was out of the park and spotted the restaurant’s sign in the distance, and she burst through the doors at exactly 2:30, swiping at her bangs and trying to  discreetly  wipe away the sweat on her forehead as she searched for Abby.  Within seconds, she spotted a bun peeking over the edge of a booth, but her heart dropped when she saw the mass of blonde curls and the  carefully  arranged braids beside it.

Swallowing back her nerves, Erin tugged at the hem of her shirt and walked over to the table with a smile she hoped didn’t look too queasy.  Patty, the owner of the braids and a student in the art history master’s program, clapped her on the shoulder and scooted over, making room for her on the bench in front of her salad.

As Erin sat, she noticed that Holtzmann was hugging a can of Pringles to her chest as if the three salads on the table were offending her, and   blue eyes were already staring at her from behind yellow tinted glasses.  A few days had passed since their conversation in the hall, but the gaze was as intent and focused enough to make Erin’s pulse quicken as it had before. She and Abby agreed that being friends with Holtzmann would be nice, and the sculptor herself seemed to be interested enough in them, but the prospect of getting close to someone else still made Erin nervous.

“Hey, girl.” Patty nodded  coolly  at her. 

Erin set her bag on the floor and picked up her fork. “Um… hey, guys.”

Abby, who knew how anxious Erin got when unexpected company was sprung on her with no warning, shot her an apologetic look and continued a quiet, serious conversation with Holtzmann.  The familiar feeling of upset welled up in Erin’s chest that Abby hadn’t even mentioned the two additions to give her time to prepare. 

“So, got anything new I can jam to?” Patty asked,  apparently  sensing Erin’s discomfort as well.  She had always been perceptive, ever since she was a junior on the college’s orientation council and took two quiet, awkward freshmen under her wing. 

Erin shook her head and swallowed a  large  bite of corn and lettuce. “Not  really. I got out of the rut I was in earlier this month, but I can’t quite get the piece right. I had an idea and a couple of songs I could reference, but… I don’t know. How is your dissertation?”

“Bummer.” Patty gave her a sympathetic look that would have rubbed Erin the wrong way coming from anybody else. “The dissertation’s good, though. I’m working through a few issues in postmodernism with a professor…”

Erin nodded along and ate  quickly  as Patty kept talking, trying to keep up with the terminology and the history she was unfamiliar with.  She was grateful for it; Patty always knew when to talk and let Erin be a silent participant in the conversation, and she didn’t seem to have any qualms about it.  Erin thought Patty liked being the only one talking, since she often worked through  many  ideas and tangled facts aloud whenever it happened.  For her part, Erin appreciated the lessons and enjoyed being able to support her friend with a few well placed sounds of agreement.

_"Woo!”_

Erin and Patty jumped and looked over to see Holtzmann punch the air and dive under the table.

“What?” Erin asked, her voice high pitched with surprise.

Beside her, Patty murmured under her breath. “Artists, man… thought Goldilocks was crazy _before_ I met her…”

Abby squirmed in her seat and held up a hand. “  Just  wait,  just  wait. Holtz, this is amazing!”

“I know,” came the smooth, pleased reply.  A head of blonde curls resurfaced  soon  after, followed by yellow spectacles and a blowtorch.  “Abigail Yates of Grantham School of Fine Art and Performance’s Irvine Channing  Residence  Hall, do you accept the responsibilities and rights of owning this blowtorch—or, do you pinky promise not to burn down our building—should I  bestow  it upon you?”

“What?” Erin repeated as Abby nodded  enthusiastically  and wiggled her fingers toward the blowtorch. “Abby, I thought that was  just  a joke." 

“Erin…” Abby plastered an expression of disappointment on her face, though her excitement was evident in the way she clutched the blowtorch to her chest. “Since when have I joked about wanting to use a blowtorch?” 

“Since… since last week, I thought!”

The  small  wrinkle that formed on Holtzmann’s forehead while she watched the roommates’ exchange relaxed, and she smiled a toothy smile at Erin, drawling, “Every woman should have a blowtorch, or so says Julia Child. Have you never had a reason for _things_ to get heated, Erin?” 

Erin spluttered and shook her head  rapidly, and Holtzmann’s smile grew as her cheeks began to grow warm with a nervous blush.  A slow, deliberate wink in her direction sends the warmth cascading down her neck and onto her chest; for a moment, Erin felt like she was melting, so she returned to her meal and carefully averted her gaze. 

Abby snorted. “Holtz,  I think  you’ve broken her.” 

“I don’t know, man,” Patty took the opportunity to express her exasperation and shake her head. “Artists scare me.”

Holtz looked pleased enough as her attention slid over to Patty that Erin was almost expecting her to grow whiskers and start lapping at cream. No one had ever caused such a reaction. No, scratch that, no one had ever even tried to cause that sort of reaction in her. It felt almost similar to the overload of attention she endured in high school, but far less malicious and much sweeter.

Time passed as Patty warned Abby and Holtzmann away from more dangerous applications of the blowtorch, while the other two continued to brainstorm ideas and collaborations. Erin finished her salad, staying silent and listening. 

“Well, it’s time for me to go test this bad boy out,” Abby finally said, slipping the blowtorch into her back and standing. Her spine popped as she stretched.

Erin winced at the sound but followed suit, slinging her bag over her shoulder and tossing her salad in a nearby can. "I'm heading back to the suite. Patty, you're working today, aren't you?" 

"It's a beautiful day for the MTA," Patty intoned, stone faced, as she slipped past Erin. "I'll be there 'til 9. See you."

Holtzmann was the last to stand, shoving her Pringles into a worn, stained canvas bag covered in buttons. A handful caught Erin's eye before the pack was slung out of view. 

_Chillary Clinton._

_Wanted, DEAD or ALIVE: _Schrödinger's_  Cat._

_Nikola Tesla is my homeboy._

_BORN THIS GAY._

The last of the buttons had an accompanying image that made Erin flounder again, and a loud bark of laughter from Holtzmann told her that she had  been caught  staring. 

"Which one was it?"

"Huh?"

Holtzmann grinned and took the bag off her shoulders. She waved a hand over them, beaming. "My buttons. Which one?"

"N-none."

"Okaaay , Gilbert," came the reply in a  nasally  , unconvinced voice. Holtzmann returned the bag to her shoulders and began to dig in the enormous pockets of the  long  coat she wore. "You and me. Ready?" 

Erin's eyebrows shot up.  She was beginning to realize that boundaries were few and far between when Holtzmann  was involved, but that was a  little bit too presumptuous. "For... you and me? What?"

Holtzmann's forehead creased again as she replaced her silver glasses with a pair of dark-rimmed ones, which Erin noticed  were tinted  darker than the other pair, too. "'M headed back to our building, too."

"Oh... Okay?"  Erin pushed her bag up on her shoulder—the weight was already making it begin to ache—and gave Holtzmann a  small  smile.

Holtzmann's face brightened up again, and she gestured for Erin to lead the way out of the restaurant. "C'mon, I'll walk you."

Erin nodded and began to walk, feeling a little overwhelmed that Holtzmann seemed so happy to spend time with her after yanking her chain like she had. Once they were out of the tight space and on the sidewalk again, Holtzmann sauntered along beside her with her hands shoved deep into her pockets.

A ding sounded from Erin's back pocket, alerting her to a new message.

_[Abby]: sry I didn't tell you about patty and holtz. they joined last minute. enjoy the walk ;)_


End file.
